


Red, the Blood of Angry Men

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Developing Relationship, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Realization of Feelings, Soulmate AU, duels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8944126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: In a world where you see colors for the first time upon touching your soulmate, Aaron catches Charles after he's knocked back from being shot in the duel. Suddenly, the world is soaked with hues and pigments.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of an imagine your OTP I saw on tumblr. Basically, you live your life in greyscale until you touch your soulmate for the first time. The experience is exhilarating and oftentimes overwhelming for people. It's an unmistakable moment when observed by others who have already experienced it.

The sun just peaked over the horizon, the meadow misty, droplets of dew still clinging to the blades of grass that were underfoot. Charles seemed entirely relaxed with the situation. Aaron, of course, was nervous. The General had always been quick to resort to violence. Aaron, not so much.

The conversation was brief. He and Hamilton met in the middle of the field. Laurens made a face at Lee over their shoulders, and Lee responded with a crude gesture. The peace talk failed miserably.

“How many men died because Lee was inexperienced and ruinous?”

“Alexander, many more would have died had he not pulled our troops back.” Aaron said cautiously, frowning and coming to Charles’ defense. “With the main column believed to be a day behind him, what was he supposed to do with five thousand men against Clinton’s eleven thousand?”

Hamilton scoffed. They argued some more, but eventually, Lee called for them to stop bickering so they could get on with it. The sun was rising.

“Are you ready?” Aaron found himself asking from Charles’ shoulder, as the General loaded his pistol.

“I’m always ready, Lieutenant Colonel.” Charles answered, a cocky edge to his voice.

“Good luck.” Burr answered seriously.

Charles turned and met his gaze. “I don’t need it.”

They counted their paces.

Upon ten, Hamilton bellowed, “Fire!”

The gunshots went off simultaneously, and then, Charles was taking a step back and crumpling. Aaron surged forward to catch him. Lee’s weight against his chest was solid, and Aaron winced. When he opened his eyes, his breath caught in his throat.

The world had exploded into color.

Charles stared up at him, eyes wide, neck craned at an awkward angle. Aaron looked down. Fuck. Lee’s blood was _so_ _damn red._

Aaron shifted, and Lee turned. They grasped at each other’s arms, staring into each other’s faces. Distantly, Burr could hear Hamilton demanding, “Lee, do you yield?”

Charles reached to touch his face, fingers trembling. Aaron let out a breathy little laugh and held him tighter, sinking to the ground at his side so Charles could fall from his knees to lay back. Lee used his free hand to apply pressure to his wound, gasping lowly.

His blood was so red. His high cheeks, flushed. The grass around them was green. The sky was painted with hues of pink and gold. Aaron felt as though he could cry at the beauty of it all.

“Do you _yield_ , Lee?”

Hamilton yelled again, voice obnoxious and cutting, and Aaron shouted over his shoulder, “You shot him in the side, yes he yields!” He didn’t have time to worry about the duel, or Hamilton, or anything.

Charles peeled his hand away and tugged at his shirt with jerky movements. The bullet had only grazed him, enough to do some damage, but nothing that wouldn’t heal with a few weeks under bandages. Aaron cradled Charles, the General turning his attention from the wound and back to Aaron’s face.

He didn’t let go of him, unwilling to do so now that they had discovered each other. He heard Washington’s voice, then, the Commander-in-Chief was addressing him. He heard a “yes sir” coming out of his mouth, but he didn’t move.

Charles clung to the front of his waistcoat, lips parted, a grin on his face. Aaron smiled back. Washington paused before them, recognizing the looks on their faces. He had experienced the same awe when he and the Marquis de Lafayette had first shook hands upon meeting.

Hamilton and Laurens approached them. “Is he dead?” Laurens asked, and Washington turned to shout at them.

Aaron bowed over Charles and touched their foreheads together. Charles reached to cup his cheek, laughing giddily. Aaron fixed his gaze on the navy of Charles’ military frock. They breathed for a moment, together, as one, and then, Aaron shifted to help Charles up.

The General leaned on him, an arm over his shoulder, and pressed his hand back to his side. His palm was smeared with blood, and the sheer _color_ of it all overwhelmed him. He stumbled a little, and Aaron caught him around the waist. They grinned at each other.

Lee touched the lapel of Aaron’s coat, inspecting it, then turned his face to the sky, jaw slack. Aaron followed his gaze, awed, and they stood together, Charles in Aaron’s arms, soaking in the colors of the world. The greyscale that everything had been before had faded into a myriad of colors. Aaron blinked back the tears that were blurring his vision.

The sun leaked pigments across the sky. Aaron could still hear a commotion from Washington and Hamilton and Laurens. Charles tightened his grip on Aaron’s arm, then slid his hand down to tangle their fingers together. His blood was slick on their skin, and Aaron jolted out of his reverie.

“Come on. We gotta get you to the doctor.”

Charles made a low noise in the back of his throat, then nodded and leaned on him a little more, taking a step. The bullet had sent his system into shock, weakening him, but he was able to walk with support from Aaron.

They adjourned to the medical tent, and Aaron watched, fascinated, at the silver flash of tools, the tan of the doctor’s skin, the red of Charles’ blood, and the brown of the trampled dirt beneath their feet. He hadn’t expected. Not in the slightest. But now, now that they knew, everything made sense. Charles was his soulmate. It was why he and Theodosia hadn’t worked out. Theo had found her soulmate, and now, he, his.

Washington was weary, by the time he’d finished berating Hamilton for his foolish choices. He supposed he’d have to dress down Lee, too, for insubordination, yet again. However, he thought, as Lafayette slid past the flap of his tent and cast him an angelic smile, at least one good thing had come from the duel.

**Author's Note:**

> to the 'angry anon' who commented "ew wtf how could you ever ship burr and lee that's an insult to burr, gross" if you wanna come to tumblr and fight me about this i will start discourse with you square up motherhecker because i LOVE charles lee and i just???? fuck off i love charles lee


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